Experiences of Sahaja Yogis who Visited Ganga Project Site
Visiting the site of Sahaja Yoga Ganga Project on this ancient land on the banks of Shri Ganga was a deep meditative experience for me. Taking a dip in it's holy water, vibrated every pore of the being. Meditating on the lotus feet of Shri Mataji in such milieu was an experience which expanded the heart with pure love. You feel as if you are in oneness with the spirit of sages of yore who meditated on this ancient land of India in a timeless dimension which exists where all realized souls and sahaja yogis are the cells in the body of Shri Adishakti immersed and absorbed together in the adoration of the primordial Shakti. As you go up on the mountain top of Shivaliks, you are filled with profound silence and after being cleansed by Shri Ganga, the Himalayas fill your Sahasrara with nectar of the divine love. My trip was short two days but it was an intense experience. May more and more yogis get a chance to visit this place and support this project to come to it's full actualization.
Jai Shri Mataji! - Yogi (USA)
Jai Shri Mataji! - Yogi (USA)
"Of course, we know, when Sahaja Yogis make the puja to Shri Mataji tremendous vibrations are created, more than one place can not so gives vibrations, as a pooja to our Mother. But the Ganges, this is one of the few places where just being there we feel peace inside, it fills us with this silence, especially it affects those who have more a little bit of rightside behavior. It will help them for sure.To such people I recommend to visit the Ganges ashram ! "
Yogi (Russia)
Yogi (Russia)
I have been two times in Ganga Ashram. I feel I was came back home. This pure and holy place gave me completely silent and peace inside. To be there, I was very enjoyable!
Yogi Luitgard, Hongkong
Yogi Luitgard, Hongkong
Email letter 1 from a yogi who visited ganga 2019
Ganga Mela
We were met by Ashok, the driver, at Dehradun airport. The road to Rishikesh goes through an elephant corridor. I found myself thinking how strange to be passing through fifty years after the Beatles, and by the side of the road we saw posters and signs for all sorts of gurus and yogas. The narrow turn off through the mountains must be one of the most difficult and dangerous in the world, as work is being done to widen it, and there are works everywhere. Sometimes a huge digger is perched high above at a crazy angle, cutting a slice down through the hill, and rocks and rubble are regularly cleared with long holdups and kilometre long queues of cars. Inside the car we were comparing this to some of the roads we had seen on TV in Peru, but this seemed unreal. Ashok was enjoying himself, however, and although in the front seat next to him and the vertiginous drops on the other side I sometimes tensed, I knew we would safe. We were basically following the course of the Ganges upstream. Finally, after three or four exciting hours, we arrived in late afternoon at the ashram, hidden, save for its red sandstone entrance gate, below the road, squatting low beneath bright galvanised iron roofs. This was a moment for a joyous reunion with our old friend and sister, Leela, whom we first knew in Strasbourg some thirty years ago. After a disturbed night in Delhi airport we were tired and gratefully slept quite soon, with the rushing bubbling sound so close hushing us to sleep.
We woke rather late for an ashram next morning! But it was quite a shock when we left the bedroom, to see in the morning sun how close we were to the river. We had seen how green and powerful the Ganga looked from the car, down below, but the scintillating sunlight on the fast moving surface was breathtaking.
The first meditation was marvellous. I felt that this was it, I was the hero in my own legend. Reborn, new, emptied and cleaned. I remembered the ruined Monks’ bathing pool near Anuradhapura in Sri Lanka. That feeling that I had finally arrived and would prefer never to leave that place again. In the background that rushing sound of the great green river. There were mountains reminiscent of Lord Ganesha and a sweetly vibrating river in our happy Borbera Valley in North Italy, but here there was green and birdsong and a giant ent-like banyan that seemed to move fat branches very slowly, as if massaging giant fingers. We were here already only a few hours but we heard the varieties of the jungle birdsong.The river was so massive, a primordial presence that caught the sunlight and moved so fast, profoundly green. This was where I had always wanted to be, this was what my younger self had dreamed of. That hippy with a red Kurta, yarrow stalks consulted daily, the model pyramid, scrupulously avoiding any gurus. I had thought my apparent calmness came from Lord Buddha, Jesus and Krishna, when it was so obviously the illegal vegetation I was smoking and eating, and it had made me into my own false guru. Now, many years later, I tasted once again the deep feeling of authenticity, a calm that pervades, even deeper than the sweetest music, the profoundest religious ritual, the most exquisite food, the most thrilling human creations. I saw the large photo of Mother’s feet and they reminded me deep inside of the feet of Lord Jesus. It struck me that this was as powerful as the first time I stood before the great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt, and wandered through its ancient interior. It was a feeling of awe that we hardly ever feel in our Western lives, and perhaps that explained the attraction of wanting to see the result of others’ accidents on the highway, the great blockbuster movies, the need to take risks, fight wars, whatever. But here, by the great river, all of that sank to the status of a cliche. I thanked God and our Great Mahaguru and Mother to have brought me to this spot, with simple hearted friends and a loving wife.
The ashram is not a large building, in fact just two rooms deep and huddling under the tiny boulder strewn road in the middle of nowhere. Along the front the verandah, where meals are eaten, sitting on old wicker chairs, seems to follow the contours of the great green river not far below, and an occasional rushing and bubbling sound is heard, as it rushes by, flowing over boulders, or silent, depending on its height. All sorts of exotic birds fly about in the mornings and on the opposite bank monkeys were seen from the white sandy beach that first day, crashing the trees about as they leapt from branch to branch while one or two sat watching, as lookouts.
There is an old dog called Obelix, a distant relative of our darling Cabella we loved years before, and very similar in appearance, who nuzzles up and gives low growls of apparent pleasure. He bristles when he sees monkeys nearby. The house, with its long front verandah passage, reminds me somehow of a fictional observation post looking out over some distant planet, although of course the nature surrounding, lush and semitropical, is hardly to compare with a hostile Martian or Lunar landscape. Or perhaps, better still, a hide on a big bird reserve, deliciously novel and unexpected. It would be a time of great discoveries, I reflected , not only outside, but also of myself.
The next day we rose early, with surprising ease, and found a place in the meditation room. When I looked up at the altar I saw the light illuminating it had reflected on the heart in Mother’s photograph. Sounds of the others getting up, washing etc., made me feel that we live on a thin silk thread between the fire of forever and the water that flows unceasingly. I could understand the mad painted sadhus rushing to the Mela, the untrammelled, unashamed joy of the liberated saint; that we exist and are caressed in the soft shadows of the heroes who have gone before us into the night, that we too can see through their eyes.
I sat, enchanted, until my ageing hips were aching and remembered the little boy of three or four who quietly left the house on the lane and walked down and down into the fields searching for the source of the church bells at dusk. After the meditation I left the room and walked down the steps to the terrace above the river, and looked up to see the morning star I had loved to see so often above the moist green square of grass in Belapur. This was living, this was my true heart’s desire, as the dawn arose over the mighty Ganges river. I knew myself as only those can who have been loved and accepted by someone much greater.
There is really a sort of dawn chorus here in the winter, which seems to depend somewhat on the prevailing weather, for example on a morning after rain there are different bird songs. There is a six o’clock conch sounding from the Ram temple on the road to Devapriyag. This year, says Leela, is colder than before and the damp cold penetrates. In January not an ashram for the faint hearted! I found myself thinking ‘we are at the centre of the Universe here’ and started understanding why our Great Guru was so adamant about Devapriyag.
There is a centre in Devapriyag, about 14km from the ashram, where the yogis meet. They were able to buy the room and the roof terrace above. The room backs on to the gorge behind, where the Alaknanda river calmly flows; and this is the left side, the Ida nadi. The other river, that rushes so fast to join it, is the Bagheerati, and this represents the right side. They join to begin the great flow called Ganga, and this is why this apparently humble little town, on two sides of the Bagheerati, is so significant and why Shri Mataji made a strict stipulation that Her village for the yogis should be as near as possible. Days later, we went into Devapriyag, and there you can stand over the joining of the waters, although not too long with strange holy men and obvious adepts of false gurus in attendance! - JAN 2019
email letter 2 from A yogi who visited ganga 2019
The Sahaj Village
We were driven up to the Sahaj village on the top of a mountain, passing tiny hamlets on the way. Two large buff coloured mongooses crossed the path of our car on the narrow sometimes unmade-up road. Looking up from the bottom of the mountain at a certain point the terrace of houses with their columns reminded me of a Roman temple. Those were often on high points, to be nearer to the gods. We had seen the website but nothing prepared us for the surprise on arriving at what was really a new hill station.
On the right was an enormous white building block, this would be the henhouse, planned to home chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys, with ample room indoors and out, and also a plant nursery on the upper floor. On the left side was another very big shed, inside which was the wood store and carpentry workshop and inside a second room we saw more of the total of 34 beautiful handcrafted doors made originally for the house at Pratisthan and now to be used for the houses here. Five of the houses were nearing completion, and there were overall eleven more half completed. But what amazed us was the volume of the infrastructure, because different blocks of houses were found on several levels, which was not obvious from the website map. It was amazing to see the massive retaining walls, which alone must have cost an enormous amount to build. The whole thing is on a vast scale, and there are fruit and flowering trees everywhere. They had imported lorry loads of trees onto the site. Most houses are at least half built, but delays after the initial down payments mean that quite a lot more money is needed to complete them, and costs are rising every year. Nevertheless one house was still slowly being worked on, and bathroom tiling could be seen as well as marble flooring and the base for a kitchen. It became immediately clear on inspection that only the retaining walls, the vast collection of planted trees, the two first buildings and the general infrastructure must have cost far more than the payments for house construction. Lothar and Meenakshi were blessed with total surrender and Lothar, who had been involved in the building of all Mother’s houses, worked entirely and only with the strict guidance of Shri Mataji. Meenakshi was working at two jobs and spent everything on supporting her husband’s many initiatives. I reflected on my life of ease and the way that I and other yogis had hardly reacted to Lothar’s requests, and felt humbled.
Far more than I had ever imagined the village project was over half finished and stunning in its setting and its vibrations. All of this, in India, with all its kickbacks and deadly bureaucracy, had been built in just eight years at the top of a mountain! And this too after the little ashram by the river had been extended, and its ‘silent’ generator installed fifty metres along the road.
The main problem now was that new money needed for completion was not flooding in. When workers needed paying, Lothar had taken it out of his own account. And then, today, whatever money is left at the ashram after expenses are paid is sent to be used up at the village to continue paying the few people still working.
How could cash strapped yogis, some having already paid quite large sums as down payments, be expected, now that prices are gradually increasing, to fork out more large sums to finish their homes and the overall project? There is plenty of room for over a hundred more houses on the site and more land would be available for the society to buy. Land is there to grow crops, and villages nearby would sell them food when needed, before the site is fully filled and finished. Of course, whole collectivities could buy a house in the village, a less expensive option, as well as individual families.
The car we rode in was still registered in the name of Lothar and all other expenses such as the lorries and diggers and other equipment needed to build the village had been paid for by him as well. Lothar had sold his life insurance in Germany to fund the start of the project.
What is to be done? This is one of Shri Mataji’s last great projects and yet it could so easily collapse into ruin if it were left unfinished and barely acknowledged. It might for instance make an ideal site for some future ‘India tour’ location, and perhaps if expenses of completion could be collectively borne, by crowdfunding for instance, then current home owners there might be ready to time share or come to some other arrangement to host other yogis when they were not there.
Another idea, needing enormous preparation, could be an international seminar up there, using tents for sleeping, to increase awareness of the scale and potential of the village, although the water supply is yet to be arranged.
The Ganga Ashram next to the river makes a spiritual unit with the village, and with the new road almost completed it would be a twenty minute car ride with a shuttle vehicle between the two. The village should never become just a holiday resort or retirement retreat, but a place for collective and individual meditation and reflection, self contained with its own biological food production, with not only a stunningly beautiful view of the Ganga from on high, but regular visits down the hill to bathe in the powerful waters.
JAN 2019
The Sahaj Village
We were driven up to the Sahaj village on the top of a mountain, passing tiny hamlets on the way. Two large buff coloured mongooses crossed the path of our car on the narrow sometimes unmade-up road. Looking up from the bottom of the mountain at a certain point the terrace of houses with their columns reminded me of a Roman temple. Those were often on high points, to be nearer to the gods. We had seen the website but nothing prepared us for the surprise on arriving at what was really a new hill station.
On the right was an enormous white building block, this would be the henhouse, planned to home chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys, with ample room indoors and out, and also a plant nursery on the upper floor. On the left side was another very big shed, inside which was the wood store and carpentry workshop and inside a second room we saw more of the total of 34 beautiful handcrafted doors made originally for the house at Pratisthan and now to be used for the houses here. Five of the houses were nearing completion, and there were overall eleven more half completed. But what amazed us was the volume of the infrastructure, because different blocks of houses were found on several levels, which was not obvious from the website map. It was amazing to see the massive retaining walls, which alone must have cost an enormous amount to build. The whole thing is on a vast scale, and there are fruit and flowering trees everywhere. They had imported lorry loads of trees onto the site. Most houses are at least half built, but delays after the initial down payments mean that quite a lot more money is needed to complete them, and costs are rising every year. Nevertheless one house was still slowly being worked on, and bathroom tiling could be seen as well as marble flooring and the base for a kitchen. It became immediately clear on inspection that only the retaining walls, the vast collection of planted trees, the two first buildings and the general infrastructure must have cost far more than the payments for house construction. Lothar and Meenakshi were blessed with total surrender and Lothar, who had been involved in the building of all Mother’s houses, worked entirely and only with the strict guidance of Shri Mataji. Meenakshi was working at two jobs and spent everything on supporting her husband’s many initiatives. I reflected on my life of ease and the way that I and other yogis had hardly reacted to Lothar’s requests, and felt humbled.
Far more than I had ever imagined the village project was over half finished and stunning in its setting and its vibrations. All of this, in India, with all its kickbacks and deadly bureaucracy, had been built in just eight years at the top of a mountain! And this too after the little ashram by the river had been extended, and its ‘silent’ generator installed fifty metres along the road.
The main problem now was that new money needed for completion was not flooding in. When workers needed paying, Lothar had taken it out of his own account. And then, today, whatever money is left at the ashram after expenses are paid is sent to be used up at the village to continue paying the few people still working.
How could cash strapped yogis, some having already paid quite large sums as down payments, be expected, now that prices are gradually increasing, to fork out more large sums to finish their homes and the overall project? There is plenty of room for over a hundred more houses on the site and more land would be available for the society to buy. Land is there to grow crops, and villages nearby would sell them food when needed, before the site is fully filled and finished. Of course, whole collectivities could buy a house in the village, a less expensive option, as well as individual families.
The car we rode in was still registered in the name of Lothar and all other expenses such as the lorries and diggers and other equipment needed to build the village had been paid for by him as well. Lothar had sold his life insurance in Germany to fund the start of the project.
What is to be done? This is one of Shri Mataji’s last great projects and yet it could so easily collapse into ruin if it were left unfinished and barely acknowledged. It might for instance make an ideal site for some future ‘India tour’ location, and perhaps if expenses of completion could be collectively borne, by crowdfunding for instance, then current home owners there might be ready to time share or come to some other arrangement to host other yogis when they were not there.
Another idea, needing enormous preparation, could be an international seminar up there, using tents for sleeping, to increase awareness of the scale and potential of the village, although the water supply is yet to be arranged.
The Ganga Ashram next to the river makes a spiritual unit with the village, and with the new road almost completed it would be a twenty minute car ride with a shuttle vehicle between the two. The village should never become just a holiday resort or retirement retreat, but a place for collective and individual meditation and reflection, self contained with its own biological food production, with not only a stunningly beautiful view of the Ganga from on high, but regular visits down the hill to bathe in the powerful waters.
JAN 2019
experiences on video
Yogini from Holland Sharing her experiences
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Yogi from UK sharing his experiences
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Romanian Yoginis sharing their experiences
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Spanish Yogini sharing her experience
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